


GALE

by themiswhite



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Allspark, Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Angst, BAMFs, Body Horror, Body Modification, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:54:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28826274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themiswhite/pseuds/themiswhite
Summary: Her name is Gale. No middle name, no last name. No memories from before these last five years. No idea if how she lost her right arm or why she has strange dreams that leave her shaking and confused.Then they arrive, completely shattering her perception of the world.
Kudos: 5





	GALE

The best way to start a story is with a metaphor. The metaphor that is going to be used - in this case - it probably has something to with fate and a burning sun. A very same burning that you feel when a blister pops on your big toe after rubbing against equally hot sand. Or when sweat drips into your eyes and the salt etches itself into your retina. Maybe even the effect of those things is a dry mouth. Skin loses its moisture and the crinkles become cracked. One sudden, jarring movement can cause a tongue tasting blood for the next few days until.. well, from the way this is going, it probably won't end well. 

But this is just that — a simple  _ probably _ . In real life, Gale wakes up. Her eyes are open but she can still recall the flashes of red from beneath her eyelids. It was warm, she recalls. And so very long ago. She flexes her fingers, all ten of them, and then her toes, ten again. Her teeth clench together, so tightly that they almost crack, before releasing the pressure. Each muscle is tensed. They stay like that for a few short seconds, before relaxing. 

She is alive. She remembers her name, where she lives, what she had for dinner last night. Last weekend she accidentally ran into a pole and scratched a horrendous dent into her green 1995 Nissan Pickup. She has yet to grind it out. And she remembers the doctor appointment she has in two weeks. 

She is alive and she remembers. 

Breakfast is a small thing that consists of a previously half-eaten pop tart and some orange juice with too much pulp. It's not much, but it makes her perk up enough to put a little concealer under her dark eyes and brush her tangled hair. 

Gale wraps herself in a large tan sweater. She's always cold these days. Except for when she's not, and then she can't seem to shed enough layers. Maybe it was the flu that was approaching her, or maybe the side effects of stress. Whatever it was, she can feel herself getting sicker with each week that passed. 

Something smacks against the glass of her apartment's window and she flinches. The metal gears in her joints snap together as she tenses. Even when she relaxes, she has to manually straighten her right hand out. Warm, flesh skin against cold metal. Pink nails that dig into the screws of shiny silver. One regular hand and arm, versus a prosthetic that she didn't completely know to control or use. 

"Gale, open up! It's me! I know you're in there!" a voice yells from outside the door. Gale finishes wrenching her hand back open and pulls the sleeve of her sweater back down. The door is pushed open to reveal a young woman in her older teens. Long dark hair and equally dark eyes with a face full of natural makeup. 

Gale smiles, all bad thoughts and feelings disappearing. "Mikaela, what are you doing here? I thought you had school?" She glances from the girls to the clock on the side wall. Half past twelve. On a Wednesday. In the middle of May. It was definitely school time. 

The girl grins, something bright and sharp. She pushes her way inside and snaps the door shut with ease. "My second missed day of the year, I'll be fine," she responds slyly. She then pours herself a generous cup of orange juice. "I need something old and cool that I can use for a presentation." There's a grimace on her face when she realizes there pulp. Unlike Gale, who doesn't mind a little bit of it, Mikaela despises even the slightest taste of it. Something about being sensitive to texture 

"Oh? What's it about?" 

The teenager seems to pause. "..Family history." 

Gale's eyes widen. "I- There are two reasons why that won't work," she responds, tucking loose bangs back behind her ear. They need to be cut again. "I'm not blood related to you. And I don't even know if any of these things are actually mine. I- You know I can't remember." 

But the puppy dog eyes are strong. Much stronger than her weak-willed mind and the fact that she had practically adopted this young woman while her father was and still is in jail. She sighs, long and heavy. "I have this painting. I keep it in the back room under the bed so it doesn't get ruined. I've had it since before the accident, and it's the only thing that I know for a fact is mine," she warns. 

Mikaela is pure interest and attention. "How do you know?" 

"Come and see." Gale puts the orange juice back in the fridge and lets the young woman follow her to the room. She pulls out an old tattered bod wider than her torso. Even with her long arms, it was a struggle. She sets it carefully on the bed. Her fingers hesitate only a moment, but she rips open the old paper that was only opened once, to her known memory. 

Gale stares at a reflection of herself. Same pale features covered in freckles, dark, hooded eyes, and long brown hair that fell across her shoulder in waves. The only difference was that the painting did not have bangs or a silver scar at the edge of her right eye. Her clothing style was also different. Instead of the neutral, comfy clothes she now wears, this version of what looks to be her is dressed in an elaborate victorian dress, a deep purple and green that went beautifully against her painted skin tone. 

"Whoa, it looks just like you," Mikaela oh-so-helpfully states. She reaches out and lets her fingertips ghost across the old and slowly flaking paint. 

Gale nods. "Yep. Maybe this is me, if I was born a couple hundred years earlier," she laughs. "I wish I knew her name. Would be nice to know more about the woman that could have been my twin." She clenches her teeth a few times and pulls the rest of the wrapping off. Then, before she can think, she shoves the valuable into the teenagers arms. "See what you can find. Maybe you'll learn more than me." 

Suddenly Gale has an armful of a teary-eyed youth. "I'm so happy you're here. I wish you were my actual sister," Mikaela murmurs into Gale's shoulder. The sweater slightly dampens. Gale wraps a comforting around her. 

"I am your sister," she reassures, letting her hands run soothingly up and down her back. "In all but blood. I would walk through hell and back for you. Always." 

They stand there for a few seconds, until Mikaela pulls back and wipes her eyes. "Thank you so much. For everything." 

Gale smiles, something small that makes her crows eyes appear. "You are very welcome. I would do it all again in a heartbeat." Before another set of tears come, the teenager manages to distract herself and she makes it out the door an hour later. School was the last thing on either of their minds now. When she leaves, it's with another hug and a painting that is much older than herself and holds many of answers, some of which Gale didn't even know she was wondering. 

The rest of the day is fairly easy going. Gale reads for a little bit - something about the four dynamics of force that affect how a plane flies - and takes a short nap. She finishes off her day by going to the store and picking up much needed groceries. Her apartment was growing scarce, and she had yet to get paid again so she was limited on what she could get. The library is next on her list, returning old books and getting new ones before she owed money was a must. 

It's of no surprise when she comes home around midnight and finds Mikaela passed out on the couch. It's easy to move her to the guest bedroom, which has started to become the teenagers almost-permanent room. She stays here most days during the week, and goes home on the weekends to make sure her dad's house is still okay and not burned down. That's where she also keeps her beloved dog, because this apartment building didn't allow animals. Or else Gale would have most likely adopted a kitten by now. 

_ The sun is so very hot. It does everything it can to hurt her - burns, blinds, blisters - she can't feel. She's numb now. The skin where her prosthetic connects to her shoulder is charred. All she can smell is burning flesh and the salt from her tears. The sand hit against her skin, over and over until it's red and sore.  _

_ Something looms above her, hot and heavy. The sun disappears but she can still feel it. Her eyes are closed. She doesn't want to see. She's not ready. Something pulls at her chest and she stumbled forward  _

Liar!  _ her mind shrieks. _ Deceiver! Liar! Liar! Faker! Liar! 

_ Red burns her into retinas, through her eyelids. It's wrong, all very wrong. She can feel it shaking in her bones. Taste the metal. Hear the creaking. She can see-  _

Gale wakes up and forgets her dream. But that is okay because she remembers that Mikaela has her painting and has to be up by six thirty or else she will end up late for school. She can't miss another day and Gale is a responsibile adult who doesn't let some stupid amnesia stop her from living the rest of her life, even if she can't remember her past. 

Everything will be ok. 

**Author's Note:**

> Updates every Monday! (hopefully)


End file.
